


Kentucky Fried Leon

by WordPusher



Category: Left Behind - Jerry B. Jenkins & Tim LaHaye
Genre: Absurd, Angst, Angst and Humor, Fluff and Angst, Food, Funny, M/M, Sexual Content, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-27
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-06 10:30:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1854787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordPusher/pseuds/WordPusher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How dare Leon interrupt Nicolae during dinner?!?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kentucky Fried Leon

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings readers! I was so inspired by the Left Behind fanfiction out there that I wanted to do a oneshot of my own—just to warm up for something bigger. It's kind of ridiculous, but it's meant to be. So DISCLAIMER DISCLAIMER: I don't own the Left Behind series. I don't own Nicolae Carpathia, I'm just borrowing him for a bit and fluffing him up. I'll try to bring him back in one piece. I don't own Leon Fortunado either, although Carpathia does. Also, I don't own Kentucky Fried Chicken, although I've been to the original one once and it was slightly creepy. Now then—on to the story.

All Nicolae Carpathia wanted to do was eat his cold, leftover mashed potatoes in peace. After all, it was hard being the Prince of Darkness. So many Christians to annihilate. So many Global Community Peacekeepers to keep in line. It was times like these that he missed the old days when he could just walk across the street to the Kentucky Fried Chicken and order a bucket of Extra Crispy from Annabel. Her blonde hair always fell from her sloppy bun and into her eyes as she peered emptily at the register.

“Anything else for you, sir?”

This was when Joshua and Jonathan were telling him to lay low—try to keep from being recognized. Once their plans to take over the world's food supply were in effect, he could be the star he was born to be. But, until then, his piercing blue eyes were somewhat gray and his blond hair was almost brown—like a snake ready to shed its skin. 

Attempting to hide his accent, he meekly cleared his throat and added, “Large mashed potatoes please.”

Taking his bag of greasy food back to his apartment in Manhattan, he climbed four flights of stairs and entered to the History Channel airing a World War II documentary. Smiling, he removed the bucket from its bag, letting the scent waft into his nose. He couldn't resist taking a steaming leg and biting into it. It was then he felt the pain. 

“Aaah! Aaah!” he breathed in air to cool the food, feeling his taste buds beginning to well up from the heat. Quickly, he swallowed.

Taking the potatoes in one hand and the bucket of chicken in the other, he walked over to the couch and caught a glimpse of Hitler.

I wonder if I'll have my own pose, he thought as he opened the container of potatoes. He held his arm up at an angle with the potatoes reaching for the sky.

“My lord--”

Nicolae sat mid-Hitler pose with his cold potatoes as Leon Fortunato opened the large, wooden doors of his office.

“Leon, how many times do I have to tell you to KNOCK first. Now go away. Is it too much to ask that I enjoy my dinner without interruption?”

“But sir. It's about that Buck Williams--”

Nicolae's eyes began to turn from blue to red. The room temperature began to rise so much that the cold potatoes got hot again.  
“I'm sorry, Leon, but did you just defy me?”

Leon's short, robed body began to crawl inside itself as if he was a turtle, “No, my lord. I would never--”

Nicolae's eyes turned to flames. He was done talking. Life was almost easier before all of this, despite the cool powers he got in return for aligning himself with the devil. There were definitely times when he wanted to scorch the baseball hat off Annabel's head for getting his order wrong. So what if sometimes he wanted extra gravy instead of his second side? How complicated was that? There were times that he tried to turn this power on, despite knowing that they wouldn’t take affect until a certain point in the plan. But you can't blame a future deity for trying, right?

The whimper of Leon and the smell of scorched robes brought his eyes back to normal. He couldn't kill Leon now. If he did, who would go get his ten piece bucket on Tuesdays or give him the occasional blow job? Also, he couldn't kill Buck Williams yet either. It was too much fun chasing him and driving his people crazy.

“My lord?”

“Leon, just shut the hell up and make it up to me,” he cracked a smile as he focused his eyes on the container of now steaming mashed potatoes.


End file.
